Lynne pushed herself back up to her feet with effort, shivering heavily and wishing there had been another way into the house than the one she'd chosen to attempt. Her clothes felt heavy and uncomfortable on her, jeans chafing her skin with the tiniest movement. She'd suffer it until Loki came back to himself, she decided, and then she would raid the nearest closet for dry clothes. For now, she was rooted to the spot, her arm extended as was his, their hands met in the middle.
Holding his hand tightly, afraid that if she loosened her grip he would rip it away from her and she would lose the tentative grasp she thought perhaps she had on his sanity, Lynne listened as Loki spoke. The one thing he always wanted, he said, was the exact thing she'd been trying to give him all this time and he'd still rejected her. All that she could think at that, causing her breath to hitch and a lump of a sob to rise in her throat, was to wonder what was so awful about her that someone who wanted to be unconditionally loved so badly was willing to overlook it just because the source was her. How had she become so undesirable that someone in Loki's position was still willing to pass on the offer when he'd known — had to have known — it was there?
As Loki went on, Lynne watched his face, seeing him start to zone out again as he spoke. Once again, she felt as though he were simply looking right through her. There had been no mention in the movies about a woman in Loki's life and that caught her attention, having forced another layer of Loki onto her. One that she wasn't entirely ready for, if she were honest. A wife? A lover? Friend? Sister? It wasn't her place to ask and he didn't mention; Lynne let it fall to the wind, choosing instead to focus on Loki's words as he went on. At the sound of her name, her eyes moved back to his, having averted downward out of respect for his verbal mourning of the unnamed female. Her breath caught when she realized that she was confident that he was looking at her for the first time since he'd come into the room.
The rest of his words buzzed and echoed in her ears, surreal and strange to hear in his voice; from his lips. Her eyes flickered down to their hands at the feel of his thumb moving over her knuckles before she met his eyes again, her face drawn in a mixture of confusion, happiness, and pink-cheeked bashfulness. If she hadn't been so caught up in the I love you, she might have spared a moment to consider the incredible amount of pressure being placed on her just by knowing how important she had unwittingly become to him. Lynne moved closer to him, raising her free hand slowly to push some hair gently from his face, wincing slightly for him when she saw — now in closer proximity — the actual damage he'd sustained during whatever Bruce had witnessed and kept to himself. Her eyes locked on his and she shifted her hand in his own to lace her fingers between his.
Lynne wet her lips before pursing them with nerves, remembering that there was still Thor, somewhere, who would be waiting for Loki. She justified her response by telling herself that Loki had just said it was what he'd wanted and that without her, even with Thor — although, that part had admittedly been implied less than said — he'd felt worse. Swallowing thickly, Lynne took a hitched breath and worried at her bottom lip with her teeth for a moment before speaking. "...stop hesitating," she whispered, tucking a piece of salt-water saturated hair behind her ear with the hand she'd used to push Loki's hair from his face. "Do us both a favor...and stop hesitating. Just ask me to. What's stopping you?" she asked and then, before she could stop herself, tacked on, "...Thor?"